Warped
by Benny The Crazed Cartoonist
Summary: Chekov has been spending an unusual amount of time in engineering lately... Might the new ensign have something to do with it? And why does Scotty feel so unpleasant about this whole ordeal? Post-Beyond.


**As much as I adore the fact that Jaylah wasn't used specifically for romantic sub-plot in Beyond, I still couldn't help shipping her with Scotty. Thank goodness for fanfiction.**

 **Still begs the question as to why Jaylah doesn't pop up more in the archive...**

 **Written and edited in my trademark haphazard style. Any mistakes are my own. I own nothing.**

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As much as Scotty loved his Enterprise, he had to admit having a few extra hands assigned to engineering was much appreciated. Years upon years of rushing about, trying to be in all places at once, fixing this and adjusting that so the entire ship didn't implode before one could say 'Scott to bridge', it was soothing to be able to lean back on a coolant pipe while his two most trusted engineers performed the dangerous-and-potentially-lethal operations on the fusion core.

High above his head, Keenser crouched next to Ensign Jaylah, relaying instructions via non-verbal twitches and head-tilts. Jaylah, positioned in a crouch next to the core's main access hatch, followed Keenser's silent orders as if they were having a normal conversation, responding in kind with verifications and questions of her own in the little alien's sub-audible dialect. (One thing that annoyed Scotty to no end, the way they held private conversations. Sometimes they would burst out laughing at some unspoken joke in the middle of repairs. Drove him absolutely bonkers.)

Scotty munched on his sandwich, staring up at them. As much as he disliked being the third wheel, he couldn't say the view was bad. Jaylah would have been in a rather awkward position if she didn't insist on wearing slacks under her Starfleet uniform.

A lull in 'conversation' and Jaylah's hands stilling over the conduits caused Scotty to shift to a more alert position. Was something wrong? The white-faced alien twisted to stare down at him through the glass supports. "The current charge runs negative?"

Scott swallowed his bite of sandwich. "Aye, tha' it does. But shouldnae Keenser know the charge of the current?"

"He was not sure." Always a comfort, knowing the current fate of the starship was in the grubby hands of an alien who 'wasn't sure'. "Thank you Scotty."

Well, there was that, anyway. After six months aboard the Enterprise, he'd finally gotten Jaylah to shorten 'Montgomery Scotty' to just Scotty. Thank goodness, too, his head didn't have enough space for so many syllables.

Cables rerouted and secured, Jaylah withdrew from the access hatch, closing it behind her. "You may turn it on, Scotty," she called down.

"Aye aye. Stand clear." A switch flick and the fusion core hummed to life, glowing a soft blue. Power readings fluxed, then steadied under Scotty's watchful eye and the ship remained wholly unimploded. "She's a beaut! Good work! Now get doon from there, it's no' a playground."

His two assistants ignored his order completely, content to revel about the successful repair. Knowing there was precious little he could do to get them to listen, Scott gave up and leaned back to finish his lunch. Ah, this was the life. Nothing on the brain except engines and food and the mysteries of deep space.

"Hallo, Meester Scott sir!"

And, of course, the bother of nosy ensigns. Scott swore on his grandfather's grave, Pavel Chekov was spending more time in engineering than on the bridge these days. "Goodday, Chekov."

The young navigator's gaze rested steadily on the fusion core. Or, rather, above it. "Problems with zee core, sir?"

Scotty finished off the last bite of his sandwich, tossing the paper into a nearby trash receptacle. "Old repairs to new technology. What can I do for ye today? Message from the bridge?" There wasn't much other reason as to why Chekov would be in this vicinity.

At this question, Chekov finally met Scotty's eyes, but only for an instant. Then they darted about, landing everywhere but the officer. "Actually, I came to ask a question."

"Oh, aye?" Scott leaned against the coolant pipe, interest piqued.

Chekov drew close, suspiciously close, and kept his voice low enough that Scotty had to strain to hear his words over the din of the engine room. "Yes, about... Jaylah."

Instantly, duritanium shields were thrown up in Scotty's chest, although he had no clue as to why. The kid was just asking a question. "Wha' aboot her?"

If it was possible for the ensign's voice to drop lower, it did. "Em... I am jus' wondering... are you and her...?"

The question went unfinished, but completion wasn't necessary. The shields around Scotty's heart cryofroze in the blink of an eye, and the abrupt temperature change must have inhibited his vocal functions because his mouth dropped open and a hurried, "no!" burst from his lungs. This being perhaps a little _too_ quick of an answer, Scotty attempted to stammer out an excuse, but stopped when he realized he was just digging himself a deeper hole. Regaining his breath and scraping together what little of his dignity remained, Scotty formed a more articulate reply, "no, Chekov, it's nothing like that."

Which was one hundred percent true. He and Jaylah were nothing more than co-workers. Granted, he could see how Chekov thought otherwise; upon Jaylah's assignment to the Enterprise, Scotty tried more than once to talk her up. However, each attempt was met with blunt indifference and eventually he stopped trying. It was obvious she wasn't interested in him, so why shouldn't another crew member take a shot?

A perfectly logical thread of reasoning.

So why did Scotty feel so bitter about it?

The ensign didn't pick up on Scotty's thrashing inner monologue. "So you and she are not..." he left the end purposefully open.

"Nae, nothing like tha'."

"So eef I wished, I could..."

"Yer free to do wha' you want, it doesnae matter wha' I think."

"So you would not mind eef~"

Curse this child and his incessant questioning! "Heaven above, Pavel, just ask wha' you wanna ask!"

A swish of air and a slight thump, and Jaylah stood next to them, innocent of the whole conversation. Still above her, Keenser clambered from the overhanging conduits at a more controlled pace, muttering something about youngsters and their recklessness (in Standard, of course, so Jaylah and Scotty could hear exactly what he was saying. Both ignored him). "Why are there such a commotion?"

Chekov cleared his throat, pulling at his collar a bit like the temperature just escalated ten degrees. Jaylah gazed down at him with a measured, mild curiosity. Scotty tried to sooth his seething insides. The bashful way Chekov averted Jaylah's yellow stare, how she stood almost a head taller than he, it reminded Scotty uproariously of a freshman nervously asking a senior to prom. He nastily hoped the outcome would be parallel to such a situation as well.

And then he wondered what brought such malicious thoughts to his head. If Chekov could get somewhere with Jaylah, all the better to him, right? Right.

The young Terran finally untangled his tongue enough to form coherent words. "Em, Jaylah, I was wondering..." A risked glance into her face. The white face remained impassive. Emboldened, since it wasn't an outright rejection, Chekov continued, "I was wondering eef you would like to go for a drink together. With me. Tonight."

Scotty had seen worse invitations, he supposed. He'd _given_ worse. But Chekov's awkwardness was borderline physically painful.

Jaylah tilted her head. "Why can we not go for a drink now? The cafeteria is only floors above us."

Bless her and her innocence.

Chekov remained speechless for a moment, trying to wrap his head around her reasoning, before finally letting some of his nerves out in a breathless laugh. "No, I mean, alcohol. At a bar."

"Oh." A beat. "What would be the purpose of this? Getting a drink?"

How did one even explain this? "Well, eet ees a social event, where you go and have fun and~" meaningful glance, "~get to know another person on a deeper level."

Jaylah straightened as the concept clicked into place. "In hopes of forming a sexual relationship, yes?

Blunt, but true, as per usual Jaylah style. Of course, nothing Chekov could say would diffuse that particular line of conversation. "... yes." There you go. Best to come clean right away instead of digging yourself into a deeper hole.

As Jaylah thought about this invitation and Chekov stared with big blue baby eyes, Scotty observed and tried to keep his eyelid from twitching erratically. Why was he so tense anyway? This was a normal occurrence. Just calm down and let them go about their business. But his stance matched Chekov's own, anticipating and tight, as they waited for Jaylah's response.

Her eyes phased back into focus, staring at Chekov like he was a piece of meat. "And this is an acceptable invitation for a relationship? These drinks?"

The ensign looked so hopeful. "Yes, usually eet ees the beginning of something more."

"I see." A beat more, then Jaylah turned on her heel and stalked over to Scotty so quickly that he recoiled before his mind knew what his body was doing. She stood before him, hip cocked, arms crossed, head tilted, like a lady on a mission. Without the slightest hint of hesitation or remorse, she demanded, "Montgomery Scotty, go for drinks with me."

Scotty barely registered poor Chekov's crushed disbelief over the sound of his own laughter.


End file.
